Chapter 1

My sister, Luna, was an influencer with millions of followers. I was her mukbang stand-in.

For two years, I ate countless disgusting meals for her, until my stomach perforated.

Then one day, clutching my abdomen, which felt like it was tearing apart from the pain, I begged her: “Luna, give me five thousand dollars for surgery. I’m dying.”

She looked at me with disdain. “Is your life even worth five thousand dollars?”

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and smiled.

No, it really wasn’t.

But dragging you down to hell with me? That would be priceless.

1

The day I finally hit rock bottom, I knew I had to drag her down with me.

That bucket of fiery, industrial-strength hot sauce felt like molten lead poured down my throat. My esophagus swelled instantly, a searing pain burning its way from my vocal cords straight to my stomach lining. I clapped a hand over my mouth, desperate to stifle any sound. On camera, my sister, Luna, was in the final throes of her performance.

“Alright, my darlings! Today’s ten-pound Spicy Buffalo Wing Challenge is a success! I even drank all the sauce, wink wink!”

She blew a kiss to the camera, pouting her lips, perfectly painted with expensive lip gloss. She looked like a porcelain doll, sweet and innocent.

The comments section exploded.

“Luna is amazing!”

“That’s psycho-hot! My stomach hurts just watching, and Luna drank the sauce?!”

“True Queen of Muckbang, respect!”

Gift effects rained down, filling the screen with virtual fireworks and grand celebrations.

Our manager, Kyle, sat behind the monitor, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “It’s blowing up, blowing up! We’ve hit a million in revenue today!”

No one even glanced at me. I was curled up under the table, shrouded in the greasy haze of fast food, my back drenched in cold sweat. The excruciating pain in my stomach made my vision swim.

“Cut! Live stream over!” Kyle yelled.

Luna’s sweet smile vanished instantly. She kicked the table leg with disdain. “Dawn, are you dead down there? Get out and clean this up already. The smell of grease is making me sick.”

I gritted my teeth, laboriously shifting my two-hundred-pound body, and crawled out from under the table. As soon as I stood upright, my stomach churned violently.

“Ugh—”

I couldn’t hold it in. A mouthful of sour bile mixed with undigested hot sauce surged up. But I clamped my mouth shut, forcing it back down. I knew that if I threw up on the carpet, Kyle would dock my entire week’s pay.

“So disgusting.” Luna covered her nose, stepping back, her eyes full of revulsion. “Sis, can you please try to maintain some kind of image? Thank goodness the stream ended. Otherwise, my immaculate reputation would be ruined.”

Kyle walked over and slammed a data report onto the table. “Today’s performance was good, but that last bit, drinking the sauce, Dawn, your swallowing was too loud. We almost got caught. Be more careful next time, don’t sound like you haven’t eaten in a hundred years.”

I leaned against the wall, my fingers digging into the wallpaper, knuckles white. “Kyle, my stomach hurts… Can you send me to the hospital?”

This was the first time I had ever asked them for anything. Before, no matter how much pain I was in, I just endured it. Because I was the older sister, the unwanted orphan, the “utility player” adopted by the Hayes family.

Kyle frowned, sizing me up. “Stomach ache? Just drink some hot water. Dawn, no offense, but with all that extra weight, you’re built tough. Don’t be so delicate.”

Luna, removing her makeup, glanced at me in the mirror. “Exactly, sis. You eat so many good things every day, and now you want to go to the hospital? Do you know how much a hospital visit costs? That’s my hard-earned money.”

Good things?

Those insanely spicy concoctions, industrial chili extract, expired canned foods – in her mouth, they were “good things.” The cramping in my stomach grew more intense. I felt something tearing inside.

“It really… hurts…”

My vision went black, and I slid down the wall. Before losing consciousness, I heard Luna’s impatient voice.

“So annoying. Who’s she trying to fool by playing dead? Kyle, drag her out. Don’t let her delay my outfit-change video shoot later.”

2

I woke up again in the emergency observation room of a hospital. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant and alcohol, mingled with the cacophony of urgent voices. An IV dripped cool liquid into my veins, slightly taming the fiery sensation within me.

A young male doctor stood by my bed, holding my test results, his brow deeply furrowed. “Awake?”

I opened my mouth, my voice raspy as if I’d swallowed sand. “Doctor… I…”

“Acute gastric perforation, accompanied by severe esophageal burns, along with severe fatty liver and high blood pressure,” the doctor stated sternly. “What on earth have you been doing? Your stomach wall is as thin as paper, filled with chili oil and undigested grease. Are you trying to die?”

I managed a bitter smile, which pulled at a raw spot on the corner of my mouth. “Work… required it.”

“What kind of work requires drinking industrial chili extract?” The doctor slapped the papers onto the bedside table. “You need immediate surgery. Inform your family to sign the consent forms.”

Family.

I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out my phone with its cracked screen. Only five percent battery left. No missed calls, no messages. I had been unconscious for at least three hours, and they hadn’t even sent a text to see if I was dead.

I dialed my adoptive mother’s number. It rang for a long time before she picked up.

The clatter of mahjong tiles echoed from her end, followed by my adoptive mother’s boisterous laughter. “Royal flush! Pay up, pay up!”

“Mom…” I croaked weakly.

“What now? Out of money again?” My adoptive mother’s voice instantly turned cold. “Dawn, let me tell you, we fed you, clothed you, raised you all these years. Don’t be ungrateful. Luna works hard for her money; don’t always try to squeeze money out of her.”

“I’m in the hospital… The doctor says I need surgery… gastric perforation…”

There was a second of silence on the other end. Then an impatient click of her tongue.

“Gastric perforation? How delicate can you be? Back in the village, we ate scraps and never got a stomach perforation. How much is the surgery?”

I looked at the doctor. He gestured with his hand. “At least five thousand dollars, follow-up treatment is extra.”

“Five thousand,” I said.

“What?!” My adoptive mother’s voice shot up. “Five thousand? Are you robbing a bank? Five thousand for a little stomach ache? Do you think you have a golden stomach?”

“It’s real… Mom, I’ll die if I don’t get surgery…”

“You won’t die! All that extra weight is your best protection. Alright, stop playing the victim. Get back to the studio. Luna has a late-night dessert segment waiting for you to assist with.”

Beep—beep—

The call ended.

I clutched the phone, listening to the cold dial tone. Tears finally spilled, falling onto the back of my hand.

The doctor looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and the hardened indifference of someone who had seen it all. “No money, no surgery. I’ll prescribe some painkillers and stomach protectants for you. Finish your IV, then go raise the money. Delaying it will be life-threatening.”

I nodded, burying my head under the covers.

These were my family. This was the sister I had risked my life to protect.

3

I was an adopted child of the Hayes family. At the age of five, I was abandoned at the orphanage gates, and Mr. and Mrs. Hayes took me in. Back then, they didn’t have children of their own, and they treated me reasonably well.

Then, two years later, Luna was born.

Everything changed.

I became the unwanted one, the nanny, the punching bag. “Older sisters should always give way to younger sisters.” That was the phrase I heard most often. The best food went to Luna, new clothes went to Luna, and I was the one who got yelled at and hit.

But I always remained grateful. After all, they had given me a roof over my head.

Two years ago, the live-streaming industry took off. Luna was beautiful and wanted to be an influencer, but she couldn’t handle hardship, especially not eating all those attention-grabbing junk foods. So, I, weighing just over a hundred pounds at the time, became her “stand-in.”

On camera, she was the “Big Eater Beauty” who could devour anything without gaining weight. Off camera, I was the “slop bucket” who wolfed down everything. She was responsible for looking pretty; I was responsible for eating.

To match her streaming schedule, I lived a nocturnal life, binge-eating everything. To create sensational content, I drank chili oil, ate raw offal, and swallowed live squid. My weight skyrocketed from one hundred pounds to two hundred, and my body completely broke down.

And she? She became a goddess adored by the entire internet, living in luxury mansions and driving sports cars.

Me? I lived in the studio’s storage room, with only two hundred dollars a month for living expenses, and they still complained about how much I ate.

After finishing my IV, I pulled out the needle and dragged my heavy body back to the studio. As soon as I entered, I heard cheers from inside.

“Cheers!”

Kyle raised a wine glass, his face flushed. Luna, wearing a custom-made gown, sat like a princess in the middle of the sofa. My adoptive parents were there too, counting money with a calculator.

“The data from this ‘Hot Sauce Challenge’ was incredible! The brand just added fifty thousand dollars for promotion!” Kyle yelled excitedly.

“Fantastic!” Luna sipped her red wine. “I knew that fat pig was still good for something. Oh, by the way, where is she? We have a whole roasted lamb review tonight.”

I stood in the shadows of the entryway, looking at this happy family of four. The table was laden with exquisite French dishes: steak, foie gras, truffles. Not a single trace of the hot sauce I had just consumed.

The excruciating pain in my stomach flared again, more violently than ever before. I suddenly understood something profound.

In their eyes, I wasn’t even human. I was just a money-making machine that ate things. If it broke, they’d fix it; if they couldn’t fix it, they’d throw it away.

“Oh, you’re back?”

My adoptive mother, sharp-eyed, spotted me. She walked over, fanning her nose with disgust. “You reek of hospital disinfectant; it’s disgusting. Go wash up quickly. Don’t pass on your sickness to Luna.”

I didn’t move, my gaze fixed on her. “Mom, I need surgery.”

My adoptive mother paused, then rolled her eyes. “Here we go again. Didn’t they give you painkillers? The doctor let you come home, which means you’re fine. Don’t try to scam us.”

“I need five thousand dollars,” I repeated. “It’s what I’ve earned these past two years.”

“Earned what, you little brat?!”

Kyle walked over, slamming his wine glass onto the table. “Dawn, get your facts straight. You eat our food, drink our drinks, live in our house. Without Luna, you’d be starving on the streets. Now you’re asking us for money? Have you no conscience?”

“I’ve done sixty purge streams for her, drank twenty gallons of chili oil, eaten countless junk foods!” I pointed at my stomach, screaming, “Every pound of this two-hundred-pound body was earned for you! Now I need to save my life, and you won’t even give me five thousand?!”

Luna put down her wine glass and walked over elegantly. She was half a head shorter than me but looked at me with a condescending gaze. “Sis, you can’t talk like that.”

She extended a slender finger and poked my fleshy shoulder. “Look at yourself now, fat and bloated, greasy and disgusting. Besides eating, what else can you do? If I hadn’t given you this opportunity, you wouldn’t even earn two hundred dollars. You should be grateful to me, understand?”

She leaned closer to my ear and whispered, “Besides, is your life even worth five thousand dollars?”

At that moment, I heard something shatter completely inside me. Not my stomach, but that last shred of familial affection and fantasy.

I looked at her exquisite face and suddenly laughed. “Alright.” I nodded, my eyes terrifyingly calm. “I won’t get the surgery.”

“That’s more like it.” Kyle patted my shoulder in satisfaction. “A wise person knows when to yield. For tonight’s whole roasted lamb, perform well. The brand said if this one goes well, they’ll push for that ‘Hell-Level Devil Spicy’ special next.”

I lowered my head, concealing the cold glint in my eyes. “Okay,” I said. “This is the last time.”